


Divine Decadence

by peachrosepetals



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Coming In Pants, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Flirting, Getting Together, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Sexting, Sexy cabaret outfits, Sub Richie Tozier, Use of Snapchat for sexting purposes, dom eddie kaspbrak, sexy videos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 12:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30021846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachrosepetals/pseuds/peachrosepetals
Summary: What Eddie is not expecting to see is a photo of Richie standing in full cabaret garb, complete with thigh-high stockings and garters connecting to knee-high boots.what do you guys think of my new outfit? :Pthe caption reads.Richie’s wearing a deep blue corset, with a black, sparkly coat that falls down behind his knees, and a cute little hat that doesn’t quite fit his head. His shorts are also black, and they’re tight enough that they’re pressed right up against Richie’s crotch, the buttons framing the obvious bulge presented there. Eddie can’t drag his eyes away long enough to blink before the snap ends, and then he’s left staring at nothing while he tries to get his brain to restart.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 9
Kudos: 141





	Divine Decadence

**Author's Note:**

> To be honest I wrote this for me. I was in desperate need for a snapchat sexting fic. 
> 
> Thanks as always to my best friend and beta [imnotinclinedtomaturity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imnotinclinedtomaturity/pseuds/imnotinclinedtomaturity).

Eddie’s in the middle of an essay due in his lit class tomorrow when his phone chimes with a new snapchat notification. Even before he opens it, he knows it’s going to be Richie, who spends 90% of his time in the theater taking ridiculous pictures with his castmates and fucking around backstage.

What Eddie is not expecting to see is a photo of Richie standing in full cabaret garb, complete with thigh-high stockings and garters connecting to knee-high boots.

 _what do you guys think of my new outfit? :P_ the caption reads.

Richie’s wearing a deep blue corset with a black, sparkly coat that falls down behind his knees, and a cute little hat that doesn’t quite fit his head. His shorts are also black, and they’re tight enough that they’re pressed right up against Richie’s crotch, the buttons framing the obvious bulge presented there. Eddie can’t drag his eyes away long enough to blink before the snap ends, and then he’s left staring at nothing while he tries to get his brain to restart.

What the fuck. What the _actual_ fuck. Richie’s not even _doing_ cabaret this semester. They’re in the middle of a production of _It’s a Wonderful Life_ , and last Eddie checked, there wasn’t any cabaret in that play. So where the _fuck_ did Richie find an outfit like that?

Before Eddie can really think it through, he’s typing a response.

_Where the hell did you find that?_

Richie doesn’t respond right away, obviously. He’s probably hamming it up for his friends backstage, too busy to check his phone, but all Eddie can think about is the way Richie’s legs looked in those stockings, and how those shorts really _really_ left nothing to the imagination.

It isn’t the first time Eddie has looked at Richie this way, but —finals are in two weeks and Eddie’s course load has been insane, which hasn’t left much time for _sleeping_ , so seeing _Richie in fucking cabaret_ is exactly enough of a shock to break his goddamn brain.

Eddie taps at his screen, meaning to do what, he’s not sure, but he ends up back on the snapchat homepage and hesitates there, staring at Richie’s name at the top where his brand new story sits, tempting Eddie desperately.

Ten seconds was really not enough time to soak in the image of Richie dressed like that.

Eddie clicks on his story.

The image of Richie in cabaret comes back up. Eddie’s eyes linger on the fishnet stockings rather than Richie’s bulge this time, and the way they frame diamonds against Richie’s pale skin. The boots he’s wearing make his long legs look even longer, which Eddie hadn’t thought was possible until now, and the _corset_.

 _Fuck_.

The snap ends again, and this time Eddie doesn’t think twice before replaying it again.

The hand Richie is using to hold his phone up against the mirror blocks most of his face, and half of his chest, but Eddie can see one dusky nipple peeking out above the blue corset. It’s tight against his body, throwing his chest into sharp relief, and making his skin stand out even more there than it does on his thighs. The black jacket draped around his arms is the only thing Eddie doesn’t much care for, and all he can really think about is stripping it off.

His phone chimes, drawing Eddie out of his thoughts and reminding him that he’d been _trying_ to ask Richie a question.

Richie: _wouldn’t you like to know ;)_

And then again, almost immediately.

Richie: _they left me in charge of putting away costumes again tonight and i might have been digging around in the back of one of the wardrobes and… ta da!_

Eddie sighs, and closes his eyes. Leave it to Richie to make putting away costumes into an adventure. Part of him wishes Richie had fallen into the wardrobe and never come out if it meant saving Eddie having to see him all dressed up like _that_ , and the other part couldn’t be more grateful that Richie went digging.

He kind of hates himself a little.

Richie messages him again.

Richie: _you never said if you liked it :(_

And then: _come on eds_

Immediately after: _dont i look sexy? ;))_

The problem is, the answer is _yes_ , but in Eddie’s opinion, the answer would _always_ be yes, so it’s not really a fair question. He doesn’t really know how to answer, either, so he doesn’t.

He and Richie have been dancing around each other for years. It’s not that Eddie is unaware of the fact that Richie finds him attractive, nor is he blind to the way Richie has been flirting with him since they were in high school. In fact, Eddie would say it’s more than a little obvious they’re in love with each other.

They just haven’t done anything about it yet.

Eddie sighs and drags a tired hand down his face. When he pulls it away, he does his best to turn his attention back onto his essay.

But he can’t.

He just keeps thinking about all that chest Richie had been showing off, a part of Richie’s body that Eddie so rarely sees. Richie isn’t really the type to run around shirtless, much to Eddie’s dismay, but that _corset_ … Eddie’s brain is just tired enough that Eddie allows himself to imagine licking the space between Richie’s pecs, skimming right over the black lace lining the top of the corset.

He groans, and slams his face into his hands. He can feel himself growing a little interested, a general stirring in his stomach, a twitch of his dick, and does his best to stifle it.

His phone chimes again, and Eddie groans even louder before picking it up.

Richie: _way to make a girl feel loved eds :(_

Rolling his eyes, Eddie finally types back a response.

_Youre not a girl_

This time, Richie’s response is almost immediate.

Richie: _so if i was a girl would you tell me im sexy? :D_

Eddie doesn’t even have to think about it — bickering with Richie is second nature.

_No._

Richie: _:(_

Eddie expects that to be the end of it, and puts his phone down in another attempt to get back to work on his essay, but it’s only a few moments of staring at his screen before his phone goes off again. Eddie doesn’t even pretend not to be interested, and picks up his phone immediately.

It’s a real snap this time, and Richie’s still in that _goddamn outfit_.

This time it’s a selfie, and he’s pouting at the camera. The angle is just steep enough that Eddie can see all of Richie’s exposed naked chest, and the top edge of the corset where it flares out a little bit. It’s more than a little obvious that Richie is _trying_ to look sexy, and the most annoying part about it is that it’s _working_.

Eddie groans, and feels himself actually start to firm up in his pants now. He has to shift his legs a little to get more comfortable in his chair, and tries not to think about the fact that he’s just spread his legs. The soft fabric of his sweatpants is a tease against his dick.

The snap ends. Eddie doesn’t think. He holds down on the message, and the snap replays again.

 _Immediately_ it occurs to Eddie that Richie _can see that he replayed it,_ and he feels his cheeks heat up. Shit, _fuck_ , he didn’t mean to do that.

Well, he did, but… not where Richie could see.

Richie: _eds!_

The snap ends before Eddie can really enjoy the image, and then he’s back to staring at their chat.

Richie: _did you just replay my snap?_

Richie: _you do think im sexy!! :D_

Richie: _admit it eds_

Richie: _i look sexy in my cabaret get up ;))_

Eddie groans and wants to bury his face in his hands, but it’s difficult to feel too mortified when Richie seems receptive to Eddie’s interest. They flirt sometimes, but not usually so overtly — like replaying sexy snaps of each other — and Eddie’s usually the one to roll his eyes and ignore Richie when he gets too blatant.

It’s moments like these, though, where Eddie _does_ flirt back, that make Eddie feel hot all over with the possibility of finally doing something about their mutual attraction.

Eddie bites his lip, considering.

Maybe for once, Eddie can be the brave one and put himself out there a little more shamelessly. After all, _Richie_ started this whole mess.

 _I dont know, I think youd look better without the jacket,_ Eddie finally types back.

Eddie can see Richie’s bitmoji peeking at him. It pops up, like Richie is typing, and then goes back to peeking at him, meaning Richie stopped without saying anything. Eddie can feel his heart beating a little faster than normal as he watches this happen again and again, before it stops entirely. Richie’s bitmoji disappears.

Eddie blinks. And stares. And worries, just a little bit.

And then another snap comes in, and Eddie about breaks his finger in his haste to play it.

Richie’s facing the mirror again, his phone covering his face to take the picture. He’s leaning on the counter with both elbows this time, the fingers of one hand brushing along the line of his collarbone. The way he’s stretching his neck causes the bone to stick out sharply, and Eddie feels his mouth water at the sight.

Richie has good collarbones, and all Eddie wants to do is _bite them_.

The broad line of his shoulders is revealed now too. Richie has taken Eddie’s advice and ditched the jacket. It makes the deep blue of his corset more prominent, and it highlights Richie’s skin, drawing attention to the pale expanse of Richie’s chest and shoulders.

The caption reads _how about now?_

Eddie licks his lips as the timer runs out and the snap ends.

He starts typing.

_Try again. I didnt get a good enough look_

Richie’s bitmoji pops up. Slips back down. Pops up again.

Richie: _again?_

Eddie can just about picture Richie’s face, perhaps scrunched up in confusion, or his eyebrows arched in surprise. Eddie doesn’t know exactly how Richie must be feeling, but Eddie knows how _he’s_ feeling, and thats pretty fucking shocked at his own boldness.

Eddie swallows nervously, but ultimately barrels forward. In for a penny...

 _Again. But dont cover yourself up this time,_ Eddie demands, unsure where this is coming from, but leaning into it anyway.

They’ve never flirted like _this_. They’ve never gotten this far. And Eddie doesn’t know what that means for them, but he’s excited to find out.

Richie doesn’t respond right away. Eddie sees his bitmoji peek at him, indicating that he’s read the message, and then it disappears. Eddie hopes that means another picture is coming, and not that Richie has run away screaming.

Their chat lights up again a few moments later, and Eddie opens Richie’s snap eagerly.

This time, Richie has stepped back away from the mirror, and he’s holding the phone down low and to the right of him, so that his whole body is in frame, including his face. It’s objectively not the best photo, but it’s what’s in it that counts.

The first thing that Eddie notices is that Richie is biting his bottom lip. His lashes are lowered, and his cheeks are pink, and Eddie can just make out the blue of his eyes staring up at the camera. He looks nervous, almost _shy_ , and it’s the hottest expression Eddie has ever seen.

The second thing Eddie notices are Richie’s fucking _thighs_. Richie is leaning against the wall next to the mirror, left arm bent so that his elbow is propping him up against the wall, and his fingers are carding through his hair. He’s tilted his hips _just so_ , legs spread apart, with one in front of the other, baring Richie’s inner thigh to the camera.

His thigh isn’t _bare_ , but it feels incredibly intimate regardless. It’s _sexy_ is what it is, so much so that Eddie feels his dick _really_ stiffen up in his pants.

The thick strap of Richie’s garter is distracting enough that Eddie doesn’t even make it half way down Richie’s thigh before the snap ends.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate. He plays it again, and screenshots the image for good measure.

It’s a daring move, one that Eddie wouldn’t usually give in to, but he can’t help it. They’ve already gone way past the boundaries of their usual relationship, what with Eddie demanding that Richie take another sexy photo for him. What’s one more nail in the coffin?

 _You look good_ he types the moment the snap ends for a second time. He licks his lips, staring eagerly at their open chat. He can see Richie’s bitmoji. It sits still this time, like he’s staring at their chat but doesn’t know what to say. A flicker of nervousness tickles at Eddie’s insides, but despite his usual anxiety, he convinces himself to wait, to calm down, to let Richie speak for himself instead of jumping to conclusions.

Finally, Richie types a response.

Richie: _yeah?_

The lack of emojis, the lack of teasing and flirting, is telling. Richie is so rarely vulnerable with Eddie, but Eddie knows how to recognize it when he is. It makes Eddie burn, to be trusted with this side of Richie, whose always hiding behind crude jokes and self-deprecating humor. Confidence flares up in Eddie — this is something Richie is into.

 _Yeah_ Eddie replies, and stops for a moment.

Richie’s bitmoji stares at him.

Eddie adds, _But I want to see more_.

He can feel his heart thrumming hard in his chest, can feel something tightening inside of him with want and desire. His dick throbs in his pants, thick with anticipation. He’s almost fully hard now, and he reaches down to rub the heel of his palm against the head of his dick.

He lets out a soft sigh at the feeling while he waits for Richie’s reply.

Richie’s bitmoji stares at him, and then pops up, and then stares at him again. Eddie blinks. Richie’s bitmoji pops up again, like he’s typing but can’t settle on what to say, and then stares at him again. Eddie doesn’t know what to think of Richie’s hesitation — whether it means that Eddie’s crossed a line, or if Richie just wasn’t expecting the forwardness — but finally Richie says: _then tell me what you want_

Eddie’s heart skips a beat, knowing that Richie is fully on board now, and he presses down harder on his dick, squirming at the sensation it sends through him. He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and _thinks_.

What _does_ he want? He knows that he wants to see more, knows that he wants to get off to Richie posing for him in his cabaret outfit. He knows that he wants Richie to get off _with_ him, that he’s desperate to make Richie as hard as he is right now.

So he types: _I want you to touch yourself through your shorts_

Continues: _and let me see you do it._

Richie’s bitmoji only stares at him for a moment this time, and then it’s gone.

Heat flares through Eddie’s body as he waits, squirming in his chair. His essay lies forgotten, cursor blinking on his laptop, and he considers, briefly, moving to his bed, but ultimately decides against it. Here, he can spread his legs wide and lean back against his chair without having to sacrifice the ease of texting Richie.

Eddie aches to push his sweatpants down, but he waits.

His phone lights up, the snapchat noise pinging his phone, and yet another picture message waits for him. Licking his lips, Eddie does not hesitate to open it.

Richie’s done exactly what he said. It’s another mirror selfie, with his phone aimed low and zoomed in, crotch framed in the middle of the camera. He’s got one big palm cupping his dick through his shorts, and Eddie can just about see the way Richie has thrust his hips forward into the touch. He can’t see Richie’s face, but he can almost imagine that Richie is flushed red in the face.

He wonders if the flush goes all the way down, if Richie’s chest gets hot and red like the rest of him. Eddie lets out a soft sound of desire, and fumbles with his phone. Before the message can disappear, he clicks on the camera icon and takes a quick, perfunctory photo of his own dick, hard in his sweatpants. He cups under the head, and sends the snap before he can think better of it.

His ears turn red.

 _Fuck_ , they’re having phone sex. Like actual, proper phone sex. This is definitely not the first thing Eddie had been imagining they’d do when they finally got their shit together, but he can’t say he’s complaining.

Richie is doing exactly what Eddie is saying without question, as well. Eddie’s never seen Richie so _compliant_ , and it only serves to make him harder. He rubs his thumb around the head of his cock, and feels himself start to grow wet.

Eddie’s got their messages open again when Richie responds.

Richie: _fuck eds_

Richie: _your gonna kill me_

Feeling bold, Eddie types back: _I want you_

His heart lodges in his throat. Richie begins to type, and there’s no hesitation this time.

Richie: _fuck_

Richie: _m e too_

Richie: _god i want you so much eds_

Richie: _please_

Richie: _tell me what to do_

The desperation is clear, and it makes Eddie gasp, makes his dick twitch in his pants enough that he finally scrambles at the waistband, shoving them down to mid-thigh. He leaves his boxers where they are, and rubs the head of his dick through the thin fabric, teasing at himself more fully now. He can feel all the blood rushing through his body to his dick, can feel the need pumping through him until all he can think about is _Richie Richie Richie_.

Why did they wait so long to do this?

Richie isn’t even _here_ and Eddie already feels like he’s on fire. How much better would it be to have Richie on top of him?

 _I want to see you_ Eddie types thoughtlessly, wishing more than anything that Richie were here right now.

Richie responds: _i can do that_

Richie’s bitmoji disappears. He’s taking a photo, Eddie’s pretty sure, even though that isn’t really what he meant, but he’s not going to complain.

The theater is on the other side of the campus from the dorms, a good twenty minute walk on a good day, and it’s not as if Richie could just walk across campus in fucking _cabaret_. But Eddie isn’t ready for Richie to change out of that outfit yet, and he’s considering asking Richie to bring it home, if only so he can feel the way Richie’s thighs feel in those stockings.

His phone pings.

He opens the message.

There’s a chair in front of the makeup counter now, and Richie’s propped up in it sideways, the seat far enough away from the counter that Eddie can see Richie’s entire body in the chair. Richie’s got one arm raised to take the photo, and the other wrapped around the back of the chair, holding him securely in place.

One stocking-clad leg hangs low like normal, but the other — the other is raised high, Richie’s heel resting on the seat next to his other thigh. The pose thrusts Richie’s corsetted chest outward, and once again draws Eddie’s gaze to his inner thigh. The thick line of his garter is hidden this time, but the top edge of the stocking is not, and Eddie can just imagine himself pulling them down Richie’s legs with his teeth.

He groans at the thought, and finds himself squeezing around the base of his cock, stroking himself once, firmly, over his boxers, and biting down hard on his bottom lip. He squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, and then snaps them back open again.

Before the image can disappear, Eddie screenshots it desperately. The image is burned into the back of his mind, but he never wants to forget it.

Richie’s flush really _does_ go all the way down.

It’s only after the screenshot is saved that Eddie realizes Richie didn’t put a timer on this one, and his eyes blow wide at the thought. It's involuntary when his hips kick up against his palm, and he muffles a moan behind his teeth, gazing hungrily at the photo in front of him.

He wants Richie. He wants him so _fucking_ bad.

Eddie types: _get up on the makeup counter and spread your legs for me_

Richie’s response is immediate: _yeah ok_

Eddie fumbles to yank his boxers down to mid-thigh as well, releasing his cock. The sensation is a relief, even more so when he finally wraps his fingers around it properly, dragging up against it once before squeezing the head and letting go. His fingers fly back to his phone.

 _show me_ , he demands.

Richie does. The image comes through quickly, like Richie had complied the second Eddie had asked him to. There’s no timer, and Eddie has a clear view of Richie’s body all the way down his chest. His legs are spread wide like Eddie had asked, and the bulge that had already been obvious earlier only seems to have grown. Richie is definitely hard now, probably aching in those tight shorts, but he hasn’t gotten undressed.

Eddie hasn’t told him to.

 _Holy shit_ , he thinks, and shivers.

 _Touch your thighs_ he says, and then _I want to see_.

It takes longer for Richie to comply this time, but it becomes obvious why the moment Eddie sees the purple _tap to view_ icon. He exhales loudly before playing the video.

Richie seems to be resting his weight against the mirror behind him, because the way he’s positioned his camera, Eddie can see all the way down his chest again. He can see his stomach heaving under his corset, can hear his heavy breathing. Eddie watches as Richie strokes the fingers of one hand down one inner thigh, and then back up. He teases pale fingers at the top edge of his stockings, and then trails them further up, up, up, to the thick strap of the garter. Eddie watches as he grips tight to it, and pulls it upward. It snaps back against his skin with a satisfying _smack_.

Richie lets out a soft sigh, and the video ends.

The sound goes straight to Eddie’s dick, and he drags the heel of his palm down the shaft of it, pressing down hard on the head. His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, preventing any sound from escaping him, and he releases it only on another long exhale. He can’t help the way he winds his fingers around himself, beginning to really pull himself off, screwing his eyes up tight with desire. He snaps them back open after a second, and aims his camera down at his dick, holding down the record button.

All Eddie can think about doing is encouraging Richie to keep going. He fists his hand over himself once, twice, three times, and then tightens his fist over the head with a soft groan.

“So good for me, Richie,” he whispers hotly, and then stops recording and hits send. He doesn’t have to wait long for Richie’s reply, which feels almost instantaneous, like he watched Eddie’s video and then immediately began filming his own.

Richie lets out a low whimper the moment the video starts, and digs his fingers hard into his thigh. He isn’t showing his face, though Eddie suddenly wishes that he were, but he does drag his nails up his thigh, leaving scorching red marks on the bare skin, until he reaches the bottom edge of his shorts. Then he wiggles his fingers underneath the hem, and pulls up teasingly, exposing more and more of that wonderful pale skin that Eddie wants to sink his teeth into.

He doesn’t touch his dick the way that Eddie is touching his own. It’s as if Richie is showing off for him, ignoring his own pleasure for Eddie’s. Eddie’s eyes flutter shut at the thought, and he decides he’s done playing.

He doesn’t have the patience for this when he’s already so worked up. He can feel his dick throbbing desperately in his hand, and he wants nothing more than to _come_.

Just before the video ends, Richie’s ragged voice whines, “ _Eds_.”

Eddie lets out a loud groan, and says _fuck it_.

Rather than sending another video, he types out a quick message one handed, unwilling to let go of his dick.

_get off the counter and fuck up against it instead. i wanna see you gasping for it_

Eddie doesn’t bother teasing himself anymore, his fist tight around his dick as he jerks off. He’s getting close, and he wants to come watching Richie rubbing himself all over the makeup counter, but he can’t hold off for very much longer.

It feels like it takes forever for Richie to do what he asked, though, because by the time the video comes in, Eddie is already shaking, hips pumping hard into his fist.

He clicks on Richie’s message desperately, and lets out a low moan immediately at the scene presented to him. Richie has done exactly what he asked, his hips grinding hard into the edge of the makeup counter, but it’s so much more than that. He’s gasping wildly with the movement, and he’s got one leg practically on top of the counter, grinding his hips mindlessly into it. The hand not holding the phone is threaded through his hair, and Richie is yanking his own head back as far as it will go. His neck is a long line of pale, unblemished skin, his adam’s apple bobbing desperately as he works himself over.

He looks desperate for it, eyes closed and brow bunched up with pleasure. His mouth is hanging open around the sounds he’s making, and his chest is that same bright red as earlier, maybe redder.

The video is twice as long as all the rest, as Richie works his hips up against the counter. Eddie’s hand moves faster and faster over himself, and he digs his teeth into his bottom lip, biting back the loud groans begging to come out of his throat. His hips pump up harder, and harder, and harder, and then suddenly, as Richie’s moans hit a fever pitch and the video cuts out, Eddie comes _hard_ , come spurting up his chest and soaking into the soft cotton of his sleep shirt.

He gasps with it, jerking into his hand as he works himself through it. Pleasure zings all the way up his spine, causing him to arch into it, and by the time he slumps back against his chair, he feels weak and jelly limbed all over. The movements of his hand come to a slow stop long before Eddie has the presence of mind to do so himself.

Dizzy with it, Eddie taps on his phone to send a response, and snaps a picture of his dick, soaked in his own come and still hard.

He doesn’t have it in him to type a message, just sends the photo and closes his eyes to wait, his chest still heaving.

It doesn’t take long at all for Richie to reply. Eddie’s phone chirps, and then chirps again, and then twice more, before Eddie can work up the energy to look at it.

Richie: _holy shit u came_

Richie: _eds_

Richie: _fuck plz_

Richie: _tell me what to do_

 _Oh fuck, oh fuck_ , Eddie thinks to himself. Richie _didn’t come_. God, that shouldn’t be such a surprise, considering Richie hasn’t done anything without Eddie’s permission first all night, but it still _is_. He’d sounded so far gone in that video, like the moment it ended he would have kept going, uncontrollable, until he came.

The fact that he _didn’t_ — holy _shit_ it makes Eddie desperate with it.

Scrambling to wipe his hand off on his already ruined t-shirt, Eddie grips his phone with both hands and starts typing.

_You listen to me so well_

His phone already feels tacky with the remains of his come, but Eddie’s so focused on getting Richie off that he dismisses the thought. He can wipe his phone down later.

 _Do you want to come Richie?_ he asks, already knowing the answer.

 _yes_ Richie responds, just one word.

Eddie wants to see his face so fucking bad right now.

 _I wanna see it_ , he demands, typing furiously. _I wanna watch your face as you come undone_

Richie: _anything plz eddie plz_

Eddie groans, wishing for just a moment that he’d held off longer. Some horrible part of him wants to make Richie wait until he gets home so that Eddie can get off with him all over again, this time in person, but Richie’s been _so good for him_. He deserves to come too.

 _Fuck baby_ , Eddie types, trembling. _Get yourself off for me._

He hesitates for a second, and then, _but I want you to come in your shorts. Youre not allowed to pull your dick out_

Eddie bites his lip, and pushes one last time.

 _thats my job,_ he says.

Richie’s bitmoji immediately disappears from the chat, and Eddie knows without a doubt that he’s getting himself off right now. He’s antsy as he waits, and it’s only because it takes so long that he manages to grab a wet wipe from his desk drawer to wipe down his phone, and then his dick.

It’s as he tucking himself back into his sweatpants and pulling off his ruined shirt that his phone goes off again.

He scrambles to play the video.

Richie’s back in the chair, legs spread wide and the heel of his hand digging hard against his dick. He's groaning as his hips kick into his palm, and his eyes keep fluttering shut, but he’s staring straight into the mirror, straight into the camera, straight into Eddie’s eyes.

The video gives Eddie a perfect view of Richie’s outfit again, and the way the fishnets dig into his skin. Eddie’s eyes drag down from the blue corset, tracing the lines of lace down his body to the waist-high shorts, the buttons hidden by Richie’s palm and the way he grinds into himself. He takes in the garters, no longer connected to the fishnets, like Richie had tugged on them until they’d pulled free. The fishnet stockings are shoved down his thighs as well, and the _boots_. Fuck, Eddie hadn’t known Richie could look so good in heels.

The video is shaky, and Eddie watches Richie work himself over. His hips thrust helplessly against the heel of his palm, and his cheat heaves with exertion. He’s not bothering to quiet himself, instead panting around soft grunts and moans that grow louder and louder with each passing second. Eddie watches as Richie’s eyes start to roll back, as they close, as his head tilts back and his mouth drops open with pleasure. His hips start to work harder, more desperate, lacking any coordination or rhythm.

His throat bobs, and Eddie soaks in the way Richie’s moans turn high-pitched and breathy, and then Richie is coming, his hips jerking erratically into the heel of Richie’s palm, before finally slowing to a stop. Richie slumps into himself, and his arm drops just as the video ends.

Fuck, _fuck_. Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever seen something so fucking hot. He can feel his dick stirring with interest again as he stares at their chat, his own demanding words staring back at him. He knows the whole conversation will be gone the moment Eddie leaves the screen, but he doesn’t want it to be gone just yet. He has two screenshots saved to his phone to remind him of how hot Richie looks in this cabaret outfit, but he doesn’t dare screenshot the words they’d said to each other. Instead, he scrolls slowly over their conversation and aches to do it again.

The cat’s out of the bag now. Eddie doesn’t want to forget this ever happened, and he’s pretty certain Richie doesn’t want to forget either.

He scrolls to the bottom of their chat and says _you okay over there?_

Richie: _yueah just came mty brains out_

Eddie laughs, feeling warm because _he did that. He_ made Riche come.

Biting his bottom lip, Eddie tries, _wanna come over and do it again?_

Richie’s response is immediate.

Richie: _fufck yeah_

Eddie grins. _Bring the shorts,_ he suggests, and then, for good measure, _the garters too_.

Richie: _duck that, im bringinging the whole fuckiing outfit_

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, clutching his phone tight to his chest, and thinking _yeah, we’re finally doing this_. _It’s about damn time_.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr at [fandomsalive!](https://fandomsalive.tumblr.com/post/645572594948521984/divine-decadence)


End file.
